


After the Fact

by CommonNonsense



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 17:26:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12752844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommonNonsense/pseuds/CommonNonsense
Summary: Two days ago, McCree had confessed his love for Hanzo before losing consciousness to his near-fatal wounds. He has not woken since, and Hanzo is afraid.





	After the Fact

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution for a zine that is now entirely on fire, as of the moment of writing. But we're still gonna get our works out there!
> 
> I wrote for the "Only Fools Rush In" portion about the two falling in love, and we each chose a "first" prompt--mine being the first kiss. You should DEFINITELY read the other two in order before coming to this one to get the whole story, because we coordinated to make a little series within the section and I think it worked out well! 
> 
> pt. 1: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12751794  
> pt. 2: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12752733

“You know he will be alright,” Genji says. 

Pulled from his meditation, Hanzo opens his eyes, but he does not answer.

“He has gotten into worse trouble and been alright before,” Genji continues. “We all have. Angela is an excellent healer, and McCree is stubborn.”

Hanzo stares out at the sea, a vast canvas of glittering blues stretching out from underneath their clifftop perch. He had hoped Genji’s invitation to meditate had been a polite, benign effort at distraction. He should have known better. 

“I am well aware.”

“Yet you are still worried.”

“Should I not be?” Hanzo snaps before he can stop himself. 

Genji shrugs. “I’m not telling you not to be worried at all. I am only reminding you that he will recover.”

Hanzo clenches his jaw and is silent again.

Two days ago, there had been a mission--one that had nearly cost their lives. All of Overwatch had escaped to fight another day, but not without their casualties--the worst among them being McCree. This, on its own, was upsetting—perhaps more so for Hanzo than anyone else—but it had been made all the more upsetting by one unusual event: McCree had professed his love for Hanzo during that mission, just before sinking into an unconsciousness that had not lifted since.

Hanzo can sense Genji’s gaze upon him. His voice is soft when he asks, “Are you alright, brother?”

“Of course.”

“You do not need to lie to me. I have never seen you like this. You obviously love him.” 

Hanzo bristles, but it is short-lived. The weariness of the past few days weighs on his body, dampening the irritation. “I—do care for him,” he admits haltingly. “But we have not spoken since. I do not know what to do.”

“You never did, with things like this,” Genji says. 

Hanzo shoots him a glare without heat. Genji chuckles once, but sobers quickly. 

Eventually, Genji says, “McCree is a good man, Hanzo. As are you, though I know you do not care to believe it. Whatever it is the two of you have, it will not be changed by a few days.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“Because I have been watching both of you pine for months. It’s disgusting.”

Hanzo scowls. “That means nothing. People say many things when they think they are about to die.”

“Well, you agreed to a date with him during the same mission. Do you regret that?”

Hanzo blinks. “Of course not. That is why I am—ah. I see.”

“Exactly. Look, I cannot say what will happen. But you deserve this. Both of you do. And I’ve never known either of you to take things like this lightly. Do not let your fears stop you.”

Hanzo looks down at his lap. He catches himself fidgeting with the fabric of his pants, and forces himself to stop.

A hand gently rests on his shoulder, startling him. Genji gives him a small smile, this time sincere and reassuring.

“Believe me,” he says. “You have nothing to worry about.”

Hanzo lets out a slow, heavy breath. “I hope you are right.”

—

That evening, as he is preparing for bed, Hanzo is interrupted by Angela. The doctor has news: McCree finally woke up about an hour and a half ago.

Hanzo’s heart races in his chest, loud enough he thinks Angela must be able to hear it. “That is—that is good news,” he says, trying not to sound strangled.

“Of course.” Angela purses her lips, considering. “I thought you might like to be the first to know, given what happened the other day.”

Hanzo winces. Unfazed, Angela continues, “My visiting hours are done for tonight, but if you would like to come first thing tomorrow, I can make sure you have some time alone before I tell the others.”

“I—yes. Thank you.” 

Angela nods and turns to go. She takes a step, then glances back.

“It might not be my place,” she says, “but…You’ve been given a second chance, Hanzo. That isn’t something that happens very often here, and whatever you and McCree have—” 

She cuts herself off, then starts again. “Whatever you decide to do, I hope you realize just how lucky you are.” 

Hanzo is at a loss for words. Apparently satisfied, Angela leaves. The click of her heels echoes faintly through the halls, fading until Hanzo is left alone with his own thoughts.  
Eventually, he makes himself go to bed. 

—

The next morning, Hanzo wakes early, snapped awake by a fresh wave of anxiety. He spends a few minutes lying in bed, staring at the ceiling as though it will provide him answers.

Predictably, it does not, and Hanzo is left to haul himself out of bed.

He dresses perfunctorily and departs, but instead of heading straight for the bay, he detours to the kitchen. There, he makes a small breakfast of tamago gohan, bacon, and a cup of tea, which he arranges on a tray. His own stomach is in knots and he cannot eat, but he hopes McCree will enjoy the throwback to their old routine. Though he dislikes this particular habit of McCree’s, Hanzo even places a bottle of Tabasco sauce on the corner of the tray before he departs.

He does not falter until he is outside the medbay, and there he pauses, plastic tray in his hands, chest tight, stomach churning and climbing up his throat. He almost considers turning around. 

Will McCree even remember what he said? If he does, did he even mean it? 

He forces the thoughts from his mind, steeling himself with a deep breath. He will not find out the answers to his questions by standing outside. 

McCree is in the same bed he has been in for the past two days, but now he is upright, propped against a stack of pillows. He immediately looks to the door, and when he sees Hanzo, a wide smile breaks out across his face. Hanzo’s heart stutters at the sight, and it is a fight, as always, to keep his composure instead of grinning like a madman. 

“Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” McCree says as Hanzo approaches. He’s dressed now in a starchy white shirt, and the edge of a bandage pokes out from under the collar. Another bandage is taped across his eyebrow, with a smattering of other, mostly-healed abrasions on his face. “Damn, I hope that food’s for me. I ain’t eaten since I woke up.”

“You missed breakfast,” Hanzo remarks as he sets the tray down in McCree’s lap.

“Sorry, darlin’. Angie damn near smacked me for tryin’ to get up and take a leak, let alone tryin’ to get down to the kitchen.” 

“Well, she does know best. Perhaps I can forgive you this time.”

McCree laughs, then grimaces, his hand flying up to grip his ribs. Hanzo clenches his fists to stop himself reaching out. McCree seems to recover quickly, however, and gives a quick shake of his head before he smiles again.

“So,” he says, as he dumps an inordinate amount of hot sauce over the bowl of tamago gohan. “Two days. What’d I miss?”

“Not much. There have not been many missions. Most of the team came to visit while you were unconscious.”

“Yeah? That’s nice of ‘em.” 

McCree mixes the hot sauce into his breakfast and Hanzo watches the colors mix in the bowl, streaks of brick red against creamy yellow egg and rice. McCree shoves a forkful in his mouth. 

“But,” he says, mouth full, “how’re you? You got a little banged up, had me worried there.”

“I am fine. Nothing close to your injuries.”

“Good.”

Hanzo tries to make eye contact, but his gaze sticks around the bandage under McCree’s shirt. He remembers the injuries there, the blood that splashed the ground and soaked McCree’s clothes, the ragged and wet sounds of McCree’s breathing…

“Listen, I wanna say—” McCree starts. Then he pauses. “Hanzo? You alright there?”

Hanzo clenches his jaw and doesn’t answer. His fingers dig into his knees. He feels a touch of shame, being so affected by McCree’s injuries. Their jobs are inherently dangerous. He should not be so distressed. 

But this is different, now. 

McCree watches him with soft eyes lined with worry, waiting for him to continue. Hanzo’s gaze is fixed to the bandage taped across his brow. 

He leans forward, getting up from his chair. In one fluid motion, before he can doubt himself, he bends down into McCree’s space, takes McCree’s face between his hands, and kisses him. 

He expects resistance, even for a moment, but there is none. McCree’s lips are soft and pliant, but immediately responsive, as though he had been waiting for this to happen. When he pulls away, McCree looks up at him with dazed, star-struck expression. Then he gets a hand on the back of Hanzo’s neck and drags him back down. It is light, only a gentle, sweet press of their mouths, but it is overwhelming, and it is everything. McCree is the one to finally break away, although he remains close enough to brush the tip of his nose against Hanzo’s. 

“Pretty sure I’ve been dreamin’ of that since I blacked out,” he says, his voice a rough whisper in the intimate space between them.

“Only that long?”

“Well now, I didn’t say that.” McCree lets out a soft, happy sigh. “Goddamn. Here I was all worried that I scared you off.”

“Far from it.”

One of McCree’s hands comes up to take Hanzo’s. “Now I know I said we’d get on that date just as soon as we got back here,” he starts, then presses a kiss to Hanzo’s palm. “And I feel like a real heel for puttin’ you off.”

“You were unconscious,” Hanzo reminds him, smiling.

“Nonetheless. I don’t suppose you could forgive me and let me try again? Angie says I’ll be outta here tomorrow, and I really wanna do this right.” 

Hanzo thinks for a moment, then says, “No.”

McCree’s face falls. “No?”

“Let me explain.” Hanzo hesitates for just a moment, but one look back at McCree’s earnest face is enough to encourage him on. “You have done enough. You are injured, and you have been more willing to bare your soul than I have been. Allow me to take the responsibility of setting up our date instead.”

Throughout the explanation, McCree’s smile slowly widens, until he’s grinning with unbridled joy. Hanzo is riveted.

“You know what,” McCree says, already leaning up for another kiss, “I reckon that’s the best idea I’ve ever heard.”


End file.
